


Bare Feet and Grass Stains

by ignipes



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-29
Updated: 2006-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-03 00:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The summer stretches before them like a blank parchment, ready for anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bare Feet and Grass Stains

"We can go to Paris." She runs her finger along the line of Ginny's neck, tracing from freckle to freckle through the thin sheen of sweat. "Or Rome."

Lying on her belly on the grass, Ginny turns her head, sweeping her hair to one side in a fan, tangled with leaves and bits of grass. "Peru."

"Peru? What's in Peru?"

"I don't know." Ginny shrugs carelessly and reaches out, walking her fingers along Pansy's bare knees. "I've always wanted to go there. It sounds so exotic."

Pansy purses her mouth and lifts her chin. "It sounds dirty," she declares, using the disdainful voice she knows Ginny hates. "If I'm going to take a holiday, I want to go someplace nice. Spas and beaches."

"Ruins and mountains," Ginny counters, and kisses Pansy's knee with a sly glint in her eyes.

"Shops and galleries."

"Markets and strangers."

Pansy leans back, resting her hands on the ground behind her, squinting into the sunlight. Summer clouds float lazily overhead, and down the slope the lake sparkles. There are distant sounds of laughter, shouts and games; everybody is outside enjoying the warm day.

_And strangers._

She thinks of summer stretched before them like a blank parchment, hot days and whispering leaves, full of expectation, steadfastly marching away from shadows and funerals and trials and distrust. Bare feet and grass stains rather than family gatherings and polite dinners, breathless laughter and teasing kisses rather than _when are you going to find a nice boy to marry?_ and _you're lovely, dear, but you're not getting any younger_, wrinkled skirts and unbuttoned shirts rather than prim robes and matching china, excitement in the unknown rather than fear.

"That would be nice," she says absently.

She sits forward again, resting her elbows on her knees, and twirls a strand of Ginny's hair around her finger.

Ginny rolls onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. "Or we can go to Paris," she says diplomatically, and Pansy laughs at the way she wrinkles her nose.

"Paris can wait," she says. "Peru is farther, maybe far enough that my mother won't even consider it--"

"--and my brothers won't bother to follow," Ginny finishes, laughing. She squirms around suddenly, a tangle of long limbs and mussed-up clothing, disheveled and speckled with bits of grass, and rests her head in Pansy's lap. Her hair tickles and her skin is warm, and when she speaks again, the words are a gentle vibration, more a feeling than a sound. "We don't have to decide now," she says, low and sleepy. "We can go anywhere."

Of course we can, Pansy thinks, closing her eyes and raising her face to the sun. That's what summer is for.


End file.
